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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320586">when everything's perfect please don't change a single little thing for me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellstars/pseuds/fellstars'>fellstars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Baking, Couch Cuddles, Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, POV Bernadetta von Varley, Slow Dancing, Thunderstorms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:21:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,865</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellstars/pseuds/fellstars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Me [02:02]<br/>yuri,?<br/>ate u awake<br/>*^**are sorrry<br/>Her throat feels as tight as her chest as she waits for a response, the word, “Please,” being the only thing whispered past her lips.<br/>yuri [02:03]<br/>you know i am<br/>Her breath comes out shaky, but relieved, and her fingers rush to type out messily, it’s rsining suoer hardand th e lighting issk louda nd im scared<br/>Funnily enough, his response comes in mere seconds after hers.<br/>yuri - [02:03]<br/>is it the thunder?<br/>aha i was right<br/>do i get a gold star?<br/>If she could, she would laugh.<br/>Her phone buzzes.<br/>-<br/>Bernadetta awakes to a thunderstorm, and texts Yuri in a panic. He's more than happy to help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Bernadetta von Varley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when everything's perfect please don't change a single little thing for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>QUICK WARNINGS:</p><p>mild description of panic/anxiety attacks, low self-worth, slight spiraling aaaand OH small spoilers for treasure planet lol. if u haven't seen it you should watch it, a childhood classic with killer songs</p><p>otherwise... ENJOY! i love these funky little tender bisexuals so much... once again i wrote more than i expected but at this point i think it's more criminal for me to be surprised. also i just want more modern content of them &lt;3 emotional support wlm ship i think</p><p>also here's a fun game, take a shot of anything of your choosing whenever i project onto bernadetta &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She flinches again when the lightning  zaps, flashing white in her room. Her heart’s hardly calmed down since being shocked awake by the sudden storm, and she’d nearly smashed the laptop to the floor with how quickly she scrambled under her covers. She always pulls down her blinds before crawling into bed to rest, but she never got the chance tonight.</p><p>At least her phone was charging while she napped.</p><p>It’s just past two in the morning. Her stomach churns. She’ll have to skip class when—<em> if </em>—the morning comes. It’s one of those strange, time-numb experiences where she can barely make herself imagine anything beyond this moment, with the clashes of the sky’s wrath. She feels vaguely guilty as she unlocks her phone again, the brightness of it hurting her eyes, but she figures it’s fine. It’s rare for him to sleep before this hour, anyway.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Me [02:02]</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> yuri,? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ate u awake </em>
</p><p>
  <em> *^**are sorrry </em>
</p><p>Her throat feels as tight as her chest as she waits for a response, the word, “<em> Please,” </em>being the only thing whispered past her lips.</p><p>
  <b> <em>yuri [02:03]</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> you know i am </em>
</p><p>Her breath comes out shaky, but relieved, and her fingers rush to type out messily, <em> it’s rsining suoer hardand th e lighting issk louda nd im scared </em></p><p>Funnily enough, his response comes in mere seconds after hers.</p><p>
  <b> <em>yuri - [02:03]</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <em> is it the thunder? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> aha i was right </em>
</p><p>
  <em> do i get a gold star? </em>
</p><p>If she could, she would laugh.</p><p>Her phone buzzes.</p><p>“Yuri—“ She whimpers with her phone pressed to her ear and her teddy bear pulled close to her chest.</p><p>“Heya.” His voice is clear and soothing and everything this storm is not. “Focus on my voice, yeah? You’re safe, I’m here.”</p><p>“You’re not,” Bernadetta points out quietly.</p><p>She can hear the frown in his voice, the regret. “Not physically, no. Let’s get you calmed down first and then we can try and FaceTime. How’s that?”</p><p>Bernadetta nods quickly, and then realises he can’t see her, so she says, “Okay.” Then again, for good measure but not without a punctuated sniffle, “Okay.”</p><p>“Good. You want me to talk and have you listen, or should I try and help you through your breathing?”</p><p>She considers this for a moment. “... You can talk.” She’s usually fine to bring herself down alone as long as she has something to focus her senses on. The storm, however, doesn’t seem willing to allow it, and she jolts when a particularly hard rumble is accompanied by another flash that she can see even under her sheets. Her throat constricts again, and her chest feels as though it’s caving in. “No, no, no, no, no, no, <em> no— </em>”</p><p>As she squeezes her eyes shut with her legs pulled in, Yuri’s suddenly in her ear again. “You’re alright! I’ve got you. Here, we can do your breathing exercises together, yeah? Follow my lead.”</p><p>If she’s honest, there’s a slight ringing to her ears, and it’s hard to hear him over it. She strains herself though, listening as he directs her every inhale and exhale, doing as he says when he asks her to feel for something—her plushie—and letting the texture of it help sharpen the lines her panic blurs. She feels lightheaded, and it doesn’t help how just as she’s coming down from it, the thunder is quick to strike again, sending her down another spiral with more words for Yuri to soothe her with.</p><p>“Sorry,” she manages out with a hoarse voice once the second wave has passed.</p><p>Yuri’s not having any of it. “For what?” He doesn’t let her respond though. “Is it the sound of it that’s bothering you? Or the lightning?”</p><p>Bernadetta swallows. “Both… I fell asleep doing some writing, and didn’t get the chance to—<em> AGH! </em>” The thunder rolls again.</p><p>“It’s okay, I’m still here. You’re with me. Bernadetta?”</p><p>She breathes out loudly. “Here… Sorry…”</p><p>“Nothing to be sorry for. Breathing okay still? Need me to guide?” Oh, she could cry. Not because of the thunder—she’s already crying because of <em> that </em>—but because of Yuri. He’s too good. Why is she so selfish by taking up his time? At such an hour, no less? “Hey?”</p><p>Bernadetta gasps, evidently not intending to get lost in her thoughts. “Yes! Yes, I-I’m… alright. I think. I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry.”</p><p>There’s ruffling on the other end. “Apology not accepted, because I don’t need one. Besides, <em> I </em>was the one who called. You were saying?”</p><p>“What?” The noise she makes when the sky gives out another groan is muffled by her plushie. God, it always sounds as though everything including the stars and galaxies above will just collapse in on them all. Could… that even happen…?</p><p>Yuri clarifies gently before she can fully consider the idea, “You were saying you fell asleep before you could do something.”</p><p>She blinks. “Oh! Oh, the blinds. Before I could pull down my blinds. Like I usually do when I go to bed.” Her brows draw in closer together, and her bottom lip juts out in disappointment. “Stupid Bernie… Should’ve checked the weather…”</p><p>“Nothing stupid about it,” Yuri assures her. “And even if you had checked, it wouldn’t have done much. Constance just did and apparently the storm was uncalled for”</p><p>“Constance?!” Bernadetta wails, hiding her face in her arms as her phone falls to the mattress. “I woke her up?! Ohhh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I swear!” She faintly hears Yuri begin to speak from the phone that’s face-down, and she jumps again with the thunder’s calling. She scrambles to pick the phone up and hold it to her ear again. “Wh-What did you say?”</p><p>Her hand shakes when his reply comes easily. “I said she was already up and there’s no way for you to have been the cause of that. I promise. Your breathing’s gone a little fast again. We should try to calm you down before you fall into another panic attack, yeah?” He’s good at this. Bernadetta’s been having these stupid panic attacks since she was eleven and she’s nowhere near as good at it as him. How does that make sense? “There we are. You’re doing great, I’m proud of you.”</p><p>Bernadetta squeaks, but it’s not provoked by thunder, nor lightning. She swallows. “Th-Thanks.”</p><p>The smile in his voice is there. “Of course. Oh, hold on—” Bernadetta can hear another voice from his end, and its lilt makes her believe it’s Constance. Whatever she says makes Yuri huff. “Shut up. Not another word. I <em> said—” </em></p><p>“Is—is everything okay?” Bernadetta chews on the inside of her cheek.</p><p>Yuri sighs, and for a second she’s scared that she’s the one he’s sighing at. “Constance is being difficult as usual. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about. Wha—<em> hey. </em>”</p><p>There’s movement there, and the sudden ruckus on the other end is enough to draw Bernadetta’s attention away from the next flash that lights her room. “Bernadetta! I hear you’re up to enjoy the heavens splitting, too!”</p><p>“Constance, give me my—” Yuri’s voice is further away, and only getting smaller.</p><p>Confused, Bernadetta stutters, “Um, en-<em> enjoy </em>is a little strong…”</p><p>She gives a sympathetic cluck. “There’s something so <em> magical </em>about witnessing the gods argue! Don’t you think? It’s almost as though it sings true of some pivotal moment about to occur in our very own histories! Aren’t we so fortunate? What a beautiful thing our Mother Nature is, wouldn’t you say? It’s like a scene out of something inspiring! Like a book, or a movie!”</p><p>Bernadetta nods slowly. “I… guess…” It’s good writing material. A thunderstorm, a few friends, some sort of revelation to spin the story back into action. Or! Or maybe, a lovers’ spat turned around by the swirl of dark clouds, the reunion in the midst of downpour, the light striking the very earth being born not of anger, but of <em> passion </em>. “Yeah! Yeah, that… makes sense!”</p><p>Constance sounds pleased. “Oh, I knew you’d understand! It’s your writer's senses, I’m absolutely certain. You have an eye for this sort of fantastical energy. It’s refreshing. How did Yuri find someone as insightful as you? He’s too lucky for his own good. Perhaps fate?”</p><p>“<em> Fate </em>would only be proven to exist if I didn’t land myself sharing this apartment with you of all people.” Yuri’s back, sounding annoyed, but not the bad kind. More of the lightly exasperated sort he holds especially for his friends. “Can I have my phone now?”</p><p>With an indignant noise, Constance says, “Since you’re ready. Though be sure to give me Bernadetta’s number. We would have so much to talk about!”</p><p>“I’m not a sadist,” Yuri says shortly, and Bernadetta can tell he’s the one holding the phone again. “Constance, stop fussing! Go be a witch elsewhere. Yeah, yeah.” There’s the shutting of the door.</p><p>“Yuri?” Bernadetta finds herself saying for no particular reason.</p><p>There’s a little more background noise now, but she has a hard time distinguishing just what it is exactly. Maybe the rainfall. He must be near a window. “I’m here, don’t you worry. Sorry about Constance.”</p><p>“It’s okay. She’s nice. I think.”</p><p>Yuri snorts, and despite everything, Bernadetta smiles the slightest bit. “Maybe. Anyway, are you still under your covers?”</p><p>“Oh!” She’s forgotten where she is for a moment. “Yeah… I-I don’t wanna get up and close the blinds, though! I don’t—what if I get struck by lightning? Bernie would die! Oh, god, oh, I don’t think I want to die, Yuri!”</p><p>“Calm, caaaalm,” he instructs carefully, and reminds her of her breaths. She takes them. “You’re not going to die. I won’t let you. Got that?”</p><p>Again, she nods and belatedly realises she’s on the phone. “Okay…”</p><p>“Good. What I was going to suggest was trying to go out into your hallway. You don’t have windows there, so camping out there for a moment might help since there’s less of the storm bothering you.” Oh, Yuri is so clever. But that means— “I know that might sound a little scary, but I promise I’m not going anywhere, yeah? If you move fast, it’ll be over in no time.”</p><p>She considers it, and he gives her time to do so. The light hits before the thunder. She yelps. “Okay! Okay! I’m going!” Bernadetta nearly trips over her own feet as she pulls her covers tighter around herself, stumbling for her door that leads out into the hallway. She fumbles with the handle frantically, and when it clicks, she’s quick to slip through its crack before shutting it behind her. She catches her breath.</p><p>Hallway. No windows. Just the darkness that might gang up on her with monsters she can’t see and—</p><p>“It’s alright. Remember the light switch.”</p><p>Oh, she’s said that all out loud. She feels for it with a trembling, clumsy hand, and despite expecting to find something on the wall there, she still makes a noise of surprise at it. Artificial, yellow light floods the hall. Safer than the harsh white of, as Constance put it too prettily, the splitting heavens. Bernadetta sighs in relief.</p><p>“Better?” Yuri asks, and a car horn sounds distantly.</p><p>She slides down the wall and sits on the floor, legs pulled up to her chest as she lets her covers envelope her. “Yeah… A <em> lot </em>…” That sorts the lightning out, but the thunder is still very real. But she can handle it. Or she’ll try to, anyway. “A lot better… Thank you…”</p><p>She can hear him shake his head. “No, no. You did that all by yourself. I was just here for moral support.”</p><p>Bernadetta’s eyes widen in surprise, realising there’s some truth to his words. “Oh…”</p><p>“Now, are you alone? Is the cat there?”</p><p>“Indech?” Bernadetta says, and for a moment fear bubbles up inside her again. The tears stop welling up before they can fall, though, because she suddenly remembers and slumps with a sigh as she does. “He’s not here. Um. He likes to hang out with Linhardt’s cat. They sent me a photo of them earlier…”</p><p>Yuri hums. “Damn thing’s probably sleeping through the storm, I’ll bet.”</p><p>“I’m sorry! I know you don’t like him!” Bernie’s stupid, getting a cat.</p><p>He sounds fond. “I <em> do </em> like him,” he tells her. “I’m just allergic. It’s a curse.” His voice echoes a bit now.</p><p>“I’m killing you!” Bernadetta cries, aghast. “Oh, Bernie’s stupid, and horrible, and useless, getting a cat! Not thinking about her friends and if they’ll like him! I’m so sorry, Yuri! I’m sorry!” She ends her stream of babbling with another scream. The thunder isn’t ceasing.</p><p>“You’re apologising for me having allergies?” She can imagine him with his brow raised.</p><p>“Yes! I’m sorry! I should’ve been more considerate!” Bernadetta insists, sniffling as she rests her forehead against her knees. “I’m awful!”</p><p>Yuri insists himself with a softness to his words, “You’re no such thing.”</p><p>To no avail, though, because Bernadetta’s now tipped off into a ramble. This won’t make her therapist very happy when she tells her about it next week.</p><p>“I’m awful, and stupid, and obnoxious!”</p><p>“Bernadetta—”</p><p>“I’m so silly! Silly, crybaby Bernie! Can’t sit through a thunderstorm without—without calling a friend and forcing them to help!”</p><p>“Bernade—”</p><p>“Oh, I’m so pathetic! The sky’s falling because of <em> me! </em> If I wasn’t so bad—if Bernie weren’t so <em> useless </em>—then—”</p><p>“<em> Bernadetta. </em>” He’s firmer now, maybe a little upset.</p><p>She hiccups and wipes away her tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.</p><p>“Not with that again,” he chides gently. “Now. Open the door.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Yuri sounds amused. “The hall here is only so much warmer than what’s outside. Open the door, will you?”</p><p>Bernadetta opens her mouth instead. Then closes it. Then opens it again. “The—The door?”</p><p>“Yeah! Could you do that for me?”</p><p>A nod. Then another. She’s on her feet, the covers still tight around her. She struggles with the locks, balancing the phone between her ear and her padded shoulder. When she pulls the door open, he’s standing there with a closed umbrella at his side. He’s mostly dry, with his hair only dripping a little and his jacket darkened by the rain from one angle only with how the wind had likely blown it so. He’s also smiling.</p><p>She feels a fresh wave of tears coming. “Yuri!”</p><p>“Don’t hug me, I’m—” She slots into place easily, her face hidden in his chest as she wraps him badly in her covers with her. He sighs, but the smile is still there, she knows. “—wet.” He carefully moves to hold her anyway, resting his chin on her head.</p><p>Bernadetta sniffles. “I’m glad you’re here…”</p><p>He squeezes her lightly. “Me, too.” They both seem to enjoy the hug, because neither move to pull away, with Bernadetta listening to Yuri’s slightly elevated heartbeat and him rubbing shapes into her back. He smells faintly of lavender, but not too much for it to make her nauseous. Bernadetta feels… safe. The moment ends with the next clash of thunder, though, and she reacts loudly, suddenly dropping both her covers and phone as she fists Yuri’s clothes in fear.</p><p>“Okay! Going inside now!” Yuri walks her backwards into her apartment, and she lets him. He loosens his arms around her, going to retrieve both her phone and covers before kicking the door closed behind him. He begins to shed his jacket and heel his shoes off with a sigh. “Can I have a towel? I don’t want my hair dripping all over your floor.”</p><p>Bernadetta shoves her phone into the pocket of her hoodie. “Oh! Um, sure, okay.” She quickly jiggles the bathroom door open and blindly reaches for the towel rack next to it, unwilling to come inside and possibly risk being surprised by a bolt of lighting outside the window there.</p><p>Yuri accepts the grey one Bernadetta manages to grab and dries the wet ends of his hair. “It’s terrible out there,” he tells her, and she shuffles her feet out of habit.</p><p>“I didn’t know you were coming!” She tugs her sleeves over her knuckles. “I haven’t vacuumed in a few days, either, so some of Indech’s fur is around. I’m sorry!”</p><p>Yuri’s laugh isn’t unkind. He hangs the slightly dampened towel on the radiator by the pegs. “No need, I took my meds before coming here. And I brought my epipen, too, just in case. Although I doubt I’ll get an allergy attack. I haven’t when visiting before. Anything to spend some more time with you.” He says it so easily as he rests his umbrella against the wall and grabs his bag. It makes Bernadetta’s head spin a bit. “Has your fridge been restocked recently?”</p><p>He walks on ahead to the kitchen and past her. Bernadetta turns to follow, confused. “Um, I had shopping delivered on Wednesday?”</p><p>“Great!” Yuri grins once he sets the bag onto one of the counters after flipping the light switch on. He pulls down the small blind over the even smaller window there to keep the flashes of lightning at bay, and Bernadetta hovers with interest. “I was thinking we could bake something.”</p><p>Bernadetta blinks, once, twice. “Baking…?” She glances at the clock. It’s three in the morning. She’s <em> definitely </em>not going to class later.</p><p>“Mhm!” Yuri plucks out a worn notebook from his bag, flipping through its pages. “I prefer cooking over the stove more, but since it’s the witching hours by now I figured a proper meal might be a little too heavy for us.” He says <em> witching hours </em>in a funny voice, no doubt attempting an impression of Constance. Bernadetta laughs a little, and it makes him smile.</p><p>She tries to catch a glance of the pages he’s skimming, all hand-written notes in his impressive cursive—brownies, angel cake, baked alaska, cheesecake—and realises how it looks as though Yuri is looking for something specific amongst the ink. He mumbles to himself, opening the fridge as he continues through the book. He must find ingredients hidden away there to his standard, because he hums affirmingly. Bernadetta watches the slight, determined narrow of his eyes, how he grips his notebook tighter, reaching to grab some eggs. He looks at ease here, even if the kitchen is not his own. There’s some comfort of <em> home </em>in the sight.</p><p>She realises he’s said something. “What? Sorry.” She feels her cheeks grow warm with the fond laugh he laughs over his shoulder as he looks at her.</p><p>“I asked if you could get me a bowl.”</p><p>“Oh! Oh, yeah, sure, sorry, yeah,” she mumbles, embarrassed. She has her bowls in the bottom kitchen cabinets, and kneels down to fetch a medium sized one before setting it on the countertop. “What are we making?”</p><p>Yuri puts down some butter, milk and eggs to join the bowl. “A classic chocolate cake.” He catches her eyes with his. He’s not wearing his eyeshadow. Actually, he’s not wearing <em> any </em>makeup at all. It’s rare to see Yuri barefaced, but Bernadetta thinks he’s as gorgeous as ever. There’s crinkles as he smiles. “Your favourite.”</p><p>Bernadetta feels compelled to duck her head coyly. “Oh.”</p><p>“Is that… not okay? We can bake something else, I have loads of recipes we can choose from, and—”</p><p>She waves her hands around, stopping him. “No! No, chocolate cake—chocolate cake sounds perfect…”</p><p>He seems pleased. “Alright. Prepare the oven,” he slides her his notebook, and she reads the writing there to direct her as she stoops down again, “then when you’re done, you can help me weigh the butter. Oh, and some flour and sugar would be good, too, if you could.”</p><p>Bernadetta nods, and does as she’s told, and soon enough they’re working around each other—Yuri cracking eggs, Bernadetta cutting up the butter and weighing it along with the flour before rummaging through her sweets stash for some chocolate to break into bits. With a particularly heavy rumble of thunder, Yuri suggests playing music to try and drown any more out, and Bernadetta quickly rinses her hands before reaching for her phone.</p><p>“Do you, um, have any preferences?” she asks as she scrolls through her impressive selection of playlists on her Spotify app.</p><p>“Whatever works best for you. Something that’ll keep you calm, maybe?” Yuri looks over at her, blowing out a breath to get some strands of his hair out of his eyes. It works for a moment, before falling back into place, and Bernadetta giggles. She stands on her toes to tuck it behind his ear without much thought, smiling until she realises what she’s done. She stumbles over her words, but Yuri beats her to it. “It’s fine. Thanks.”</p><p>She nods again, swallowing. “Do you need a hairband?”</p><p>“There’s one in my bag. Thing is, my hands are a little occupied.” He raises them, wriggling his messy fingers, caked with the mixture.</p><p>“Oh, uh. I can tie your hair up?” she ventures, not wanting to overstep.</p><p>Thing is, she’s not sure what counts as overstepping when it comes to Yuri. There seem to be no limits, as far as she can tell, but she’s not one to trust her own judgement often. His teasing expression is enough to confirm it’s more than fine, though.</p><p>“Aren’t you the perfect little helper? You’re much easier to cook with that my bunch. Balthus spills things, Constance bitches, and Hapi’s usually just there to eat whatever’s out when I turn my back around.” He rolls his eyes to prove a point, but there’s no malice behind it. Bernadetta laughs nervously and looks through his bag for the hairband. She finds it and stands behind him, carefully bunching his hair together. She struggles a little trying to group some of the hair from his face, and Yuri bends down a little for her to reach. “Better?” She can hear the smirk in his voice.</p><p>It’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Thanks.” She sticks her tongue out past her teeth in concentration, trying hard to not accidentally tug on his hair. She manages just fine, and pulls one last time gently to tighten the ponytail.</p><p>When she steps back, he strikes a pose. “How do I look?”</p><p>Bernadetta laughs at how he purses his lips, throwing his head back dramatically. “You look—good.”</p><p>He raises a brow, his smirk crawling back. “<em> Just </em>good?”</p><p>“Um. Yeah! Gr-Great, even. Handsome. Gorgeous. Like—like a model!” She winces.</p><p>If she didn’t know better, she’d say he’s blushing. The smirk falters. “You flatter me,” he says offhandedly, turning back to their cake mix. “You were picking out music?”</p><p>“Oh! Yes! Right, sorry.” He clicks his tongue at her apology and she only offers a sheepish smile in response, picking her phone up again. She considers her selection of playlists, unsure which would be promising enough for the occasion. She does a small breath through her nose when she notices one of her writing playlists in its folder, all with different themes for different types of scenes. The one catching her attention now is the one she reserves for more intimate and domestic scenes she spends more time really projecting her own romantic fantasies onto more than anything. Her ears pinken. Would it be appropriate to use it now? Yuri’s just a friend…</p><p>But… Is he? People have asked them that a few times. Balthus had enthused about how sweet they look when Yuri had hugged her from behind, and Bernadetta had short-circuited while Yuri just drawled a simple word of thanks. Caspar enquired how long they’d been together, tone almost accusatory, as though intending to compete against them with Linhardt, to which Yuri only shrugged and Bernadetta squeaked. When Sylvain whistled lowly and asked who asked whom, Yuri just rested his arms around her, while Bernadetta groaned and hid her face in his chest. No one received a proper answer, least of all Bernadetta. She’s wanted to ask so many times, question the actual terms of whatever relationship they had, but then came the shame and embarrassment.</p><p>Her father had told her himself, too many times to count: <em> no one would want you, not even a blind man on the streets. </em></p><p>Yuri was no blind man, so why should he even consider her in such a way? She’s lucky enough just to have him as a friend, but if anything she’s forced him into such a role. She’s pushed him around so much he’s felt the need to turn up at an impossible hour to bake just to take her mind off of something as silly as a <em> thunderstorm. </em>She’s useless, awkward, unwanted—everything a person as smart, graceful and gorgeous as Yuri wouldn’t care for in such a way she would hope.</p><p>“Bernadetta?” His voice nudges her out of her thoughts. “You okay over there?” He’s drying his hands with her tea towel.</p><p>“Yeah!” It doesn’t matter. “Just wasn’t sure which playlist to choose.” She decides to hell with it, and shuffles the playlist. The first song plays, the title slipping her mind completely, but she knows the words. Loves them, actually.</p><p>Yuri looks unconvinced. He hums thoughtfully, and Bernadetta straightens her back. “You’ve got something on your face…” He steps closer, and she feels her throat dry up suddenly.</p><p>“Oh, I-I do?” she stammers, laughing nervously.</p><p>He’s getting even closer. Bernadetta feels her heart pick up a few extra beats. Yuri’s face is drawn in, musing. “Yeah, right—” There’s a crumpling sound of paper as he buries his hand somewhere. “—here!”  He flicks some flour at her face harmlessly, and Bernadetta squeaks, then sneezes just as he steps back again, grinning.</p><p>She whines out, “Yuuuuriiiiii!” More sneezes follow.</p><p>Yuri, daring as he is, laughs. “You’re adorable.”</p><p>She sneezes again, unsure of what to do as her hands hover at her sides. “That’s not—!” Another sneeze. “I’m not—!”</p><p>“Are too. Don’t argue with me, I always win.”</p><p>He doesn’t. He’s lost many arguments to her before, but she’s a little too caught up in trying to get the flour off her face to remind him of that. He chuckles and decides, so graciously, to help her out. He’s wet the tea towel a little, and pushes her fringe back to try and wipe at the flour he’d thrown at her.</p><p>She shuts her eyes, because she can’t really look at him now without combusting. “What was that for?” She puffs out her cheeks, vaguely unimpressed.</p><p>“You were thinking too hard. And about bad things. I can tell.”</p><p>Bernadetta feels him gently dab at her cheeks, tilting her head up a little but her chin. “You—you can?”</p><p>“Sure! I’ve known you for so long, haven’t I? I can tell most things about you by just looking at you, or by your tone when we’re texting.”</p><p>She blinks her eyes open, scrunching her nose up a little as he cleans it. “Like how you knew the thunderstorm was what woke me up…”</p><p>His wipes slow, and they look each other in the eye. “Yeah. I know you pretty damn well, don’t you think?”</p><p>He does, and she knows it. It’s terrifying.</p><p>“That’s… sorta scary,” she confesses quietly.</p><p>Yuri’s smile is wry. “Maybe. But I like to think you trust me a little to be okay with that.”</p><p>She’s quick to correct him, and with rare certainty that is absolute. “I trust you more than any other person I know.”</p><p>His eyes round, and for a moment she’s afraid she’s said something wrong. “Well. I’m glad. And it’s the same for me.”</p><p>“It… is?” It makes her heart skip stupidly.</p><p>Yuri nods slowly. “Yeah.” For a short moment, they just stand there; Yuri’s hand still holding her chin tenderly, and Bernadetta looking into his eyes, unblinking. He cuts through the comfortable silence, though a little begrudgingly, Bernadetta dares to think. “We could have some hot chocolate while we wait for the cake to bake.”</p><p>And just like that, he’s back at the counters, the tea towel over his shoulder and his hands busy as he read his own instructions from the notebook. Bernadetta coughs.</p><p>“I can, um. I can mix for you.”</p><p>They get back into the flow of things easily, and they both find themselves humming along to some of the songs on Bernadetta’s playlist, exchanging secret smiles when they catch each other lost in the chorus of them. Laughter joins the lyrics, and it easily holds the storm’s ill intentions at bay. Bernadetta feels herself grow lighter with how they joke and tease in ways she’s painfully aware only happen around Yuri. If he knows, too, he keeps it to himself. She wouldn’t be surprised if he held that in mind, all too knowing for his own good. Like he said, he can tell so much about her just by a single glance.</p><p>Although, for someone who’s typically quick on his feet and impressively graceful, Yuri can be a messy cook. He justifies it with his mother’s words: “She always says,” he grins at Bernadetta as she wipes some of the chocolate icing off his jaw, “‘if you aren’t elbows deep in mix, don’t bother eating what you make. You didn’t put your heart in it, and it’ll taste like shit’.”</p><p>Bernadetta laughs loudly. “She sounds really great. I’d love to meet her.”</p><p>There’s something wistful about the look in Yuri’s eyes. “Yeah, I miss her. She’s very eager to have you visit sometime soon, too. She nags me about it.”</p><p>She holds the baking tray carefully as Yuri slowly pours the cake mixture in. “She does?”</p><p>“Ah, well, I’ve mentioned you quite a lot. And god knows how demanding that woman is.” He almost sounds… bashful…?</p><p>Bernadetta smiles. “I’d like that! To meet her, I mean. Maybe, uh. Maybe during summer break…? I’m sorta… trying to find people to stay with over the course of it to avoid family…” If the version of herself from even a year ago had heard present her say this, she would shake present-Bernie and call her insane. Recluses aren’t meant to travel around and see their friends over the summer period. Hell, recluses aren’t even meant to <em> have </em>friends, but with the people she’s met and gotten closer to, the more Bernadetta’s learnt to slowly find her footing. Going to visit others could be… challenging, but she’d much rather drain her social meter than lock herself away in her bedroom, afraid to step out lest her father see her. And to spend some more time with Yuri...</p><p>Yuri nods, just as the last of the mix drips from the bowl. “Sounds perfect. I’ll let her know. She’s never gonna shut up about this. I apologise in advance, she’s… Well, she’s my mom.” He shrugs, but the affection in his words is there. He slips on Bernadetta’s oven mitts—the ones with colourful cats on them—and slides the cake into the oven. “Knowing her, she’ll take your whole visit as a chance to embarrass me. Baby photos and all.”</p><p>A snort leaves her. “As if you could be embarrassed.”</p><p>“Oh, trust me. <em> She </em>could manage it.” He sets a timer on his phone and stretches. “You mind if I change into my pajamas? We can get going on the hot chocolate, too.”</p><p>Bernadetta nearly trips over air as she goes to put the bowl and messy spoons into the sink. “You’re—you’re staying the night?”</p><p>His grin is wolfish and white. “Of course I am. This storm still isn’t letting up, and there’s no way I’m leaving you alone.”</p><p>She flushes and fiddles with the hem of her hoodie. “I… If—if you’re sure…”</p><p>His hand is at her chin again, and it’s warm. The way he grazes her cheek with his thumb makes her hands sweat and her eyes look up at him. “I’m sure. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”</p><p>Unable to do much else, Bernadetta nods.</p><p>“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”</p><p>Bernadetta stares after him as he grabs his bag and makes his way for the bathroom. She breathes out, deep and slow, and then pivots on her socked feet to struggle for some mugs from a high cabinet. There’s just enough milk for them to break out some hot chocolate, thankfully, and she searches for the powder. If she were accompanied by anybody else tonight, they would say hot chocolate with chocolate cake is too much chocolate for it to be any good. But she’s with Yuri, and they both have such terrible sweet tooths that neither of them have the power to hold the other back from indulging in. So if anything, they just enable each other. Bernadetta isn’t one to complain about it anytime soon.</p><p>She begins to sing along quietly to the next song that’s come on shuffle, putting one of the milk-filled mugs into the microwaves before sliding over to the sink. The water is a bit too hot at first, and she taps one hand against the sink in a beat along to the song, the other carefully checking the temperature with a few fingers. She scrubs at the bowl, squirting washing up liquid and swirling it around.</p><p>The cake’s baking just fine, and she can smell the heavy chocolate in the air—sweet, and good, and made by them both. She smiles to herself. It’s simple, too easy and small for anyone else to really care but it means a lot to her. Maybe even a little too much.</p><p>Yet there’s something somewhat intoxicating to their mirrored movements, the way they tiptoe around the other, brush hands lightly, bump shoulders, laugh. It’s too much and at the same time not enough, and Bernadetta doesn’t know what to do with herself. What to do with <em> Yuri. </em>She’s clueless, caught in the middle of wanting that more and keeping quiet and mourning the not enough. But when he’s here to keep her distracted, happy and at home—it’s hard to resist the greediness she knows she’s far from entitled to.</p><p>She’s smiling anyway.</p><p>“What’s that look for?” Yuri teases as he comes back to the kitchen, hair still in the ponytail she put up for him but now donning a loose shirt and leggings. He looks so open like this. He hides so much of himself behind the layer of nice clothes and pretty makeup, behind the wisps of lavender in his eyes. But right now? Bernadetta reads him like an open book, and between the lines she can see contentment. It provokes stupid butterflies in her stomach.</p><p>She’s written moments like these before, between lovers she’s made up and made her own, all the while yearning herself.</p><p>She shrugs, handing him the bowl to dry it. “I just like this song.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Yuri says, taking it and doing just that. “You’ve got one of the most varied song tastes I’ve ever come across. One minute it’s indie, the next it’s classical, and then I have to tap you on the shoulder because you’re deafening yourself with rock and metal. Frankly, it’s impressive.”</p><p>Her movements slow down a little, thinking about her answer. “I guess... I just have a genre for every mood.”</p><p>He hums lowly. “And what mood is this?”</p><p>Bernadetta swallows, because the intro for Louie Armstrong’s  <em> La Vie En Rose </em>has just started crooning from her small speakers. “I—Well—”</p><p>Yuri takes the clean spoons from her hands and turns the tap off once he puts them aside. He dries her hands for her, and his eyes have a certain glint to his eyes when he asks, “How much do you remember from your dance lessons when we were kids?”</p><p>She stumbles over her words, a little thrown off by the sudden question. “Um. Prob—probably more than I think I do…”</p><p>His smile is natural and soft. A terrible part of her hopes he only smiles at her like that, and at no one else. His hands are still holding hers. “May I have this dance, then?”</p><p>With her mouth falling agape, all Bernadetta can manage is to nod mutely, not trusting her voice. Yuri laughs gently, positions them both correctly, and leads.</p><p>Bernadetta remembers the classes she was forced into taking when she was younger where Yuri caught himself an assistant gig at the studio she went to. She hated them with a passion, always worried about how she looked <em> ridiculous </em> in the dress she was made to wear, always worried about how clumsy she was on her feet, and worried some more about all the other children laughing at her behind their hands. The teacher was strict, and often made her cry in the bathrooms there, sniffling at how she’s absolutely hopeless at every stupid thing you throw her into. She remembers, as well, how Yuri was always there to comfort her, always the one to offer being her partner for paired dances, always gave her pointers that actually made sense. Oh, the horrid looks Bernadetta got whenever Yuri came up to <em> her </em>of all people, to hold her hand and waist, to smile at her and praise her and twirl her. People whispered about them, and Yuri seemed to care little for it if at all, too focused on guiding Bernadetta’s every move.</p><p>Eventually, Saturdays weren’t about the dancing—not anymore. Eventually, Yuri was all she looked forward to whenever she was ushered out of the Varley house for her lessons. All she did was hold on and wait for when she would pass him by the open double doors as he leaned against one of them, breathing out all the stress of the week once he would give her a smile. She would dress quickly, practically stumbling over her feet to go talk to him before the rest of the children would arrive and fight for his attention like vultures, pushing her aside. She minded a lot less than she maybe would’ve otherwise, because Yuri only ever looked truly interested when it was Bernadetta who spoke, gushing about some new plant she’d learned about from another book she’d gotten, rambling about the fifth new idea for a novel of her own in the past month, and anything and everything else in between.</p><p>Then, one day Yuri fell ill, and Bernadetta couldn’t stand the three hours alone and without him, so distraught she never came back. She never saw him again.</p><p>Perhaps fate has been an unlikely ally all along, just as Constance suggested. Because despite all odds, they still managed to find each other again in Seteth’s philosophy lectures of all places. And after all those years, Bernadetta still recognised him, even though his hair was dyed a soft lavender, even though his hair was longer and he was taller. And he seemed to recognise her too, seemed to see past the impulsive dark purple of her own hair, straightened and still short. For her, it was that look in his eyes that promised scheming, much like it did when they were small and thinking of ways they could prank one of the mean girls who had called Bernadetta names. She often wonders what about her gave it away for him.</p><p>Never in her whole life has Bernadetta been as thankful as she is now, because Yuri’s warm hands holding her hand and at her waist keep her grounded, and they move together fluidly and, well, as though they were made to dance together. Maybe they were. Bernadetta likes that thought.</p><p>It must make her smile because Yuri leans in a little to murmur into her ear, “You’re thinking again.”</p><p>She swallows and nods the slightest bit. “That happens sometimes.”</p><p>He chuckles a little, some strands coming loose from his ponytail and tickling her face. “Actually, I know for a fact it happens perhaps a little too much sometimes. Are you overthinking something?”</p><p>For once? “No,” she says truthfully. “No, I was just… thinking about us, is all.”</p><p>Yuri pulls back slightly, something unreadable in his eyes as he raises a single brow. “Us?” he echoes.</p><p>Bernadetta’s mouth dries a little as she realises the implications to her words that she doesn’t mean. “I-I just meant! I just meant how we’ve, um. We’ve found each other again! Since we were kids, I mean…”</p><p>“Oh.” Is that—disappointment? “Funny, fickle thing life is. Don’t you think?”</p><p>All she does is bob her head in agreement. He sighs and pulls her close, the both of them swaying slowly to the familiar soothing tones of the song. Bernadetta feels almost drunk on this entire moment. The hand holding hers squeezes lightly. She knows her face colours when she squeezes back, her heart running amok behind her ribs. She sighs, too, for no real reason. Happiness? Maybe. She’s only human.</p><p>After a few moments, he says, “I regret never getting to say goodbye.” He’s whispering. Bernadetta refrains from shivering.</p><p>She takes her time replying, “I don’t.” When his fingers stiffen on her ever so slightly, she’s quick to explain. “I just mean… It… wasn’t really goodbye…” She looks up at him. His eyes easily find hers. “Right?”</p><p>His expression is still, and again so unreadable. He musters a slight smile though. “Right.”</p><p>The song goes on, and they dance more. He spins her, twirls her, and she laughs, throwing her head back in mirth. Neither of them are quite as smooth as they were on those stuffy Saturdays in the studio, but they’re having fun and tease the other for occasional sloppy footwork. Bernadetta complains loudly when Yuri calls her out for stepping on a toe or two, and he snickers as she does.</p><p>Then, Yuri dips her.</p><p>They’re both panting a little, gulping for some air after rousing themselves from a slow dance to something a bit livelier. Some of his hair is out of the ponytail and framing his face as he holds onto her, leaning her back and him forward. If these hands belonged to someone else, Bernadetta would fear being dropped. Yuri’s never dropped her before though, and she trusts he won’t now. The look in his eyes, though, is dangerous. It lingers at her own eyes, wide and curious, and makes it way down to—her lips? Bernadetta swallows hard, hands suddenly clammy and cheeks, she knows very well, ablaze.</p><p>He leans in.</p><p>The alarm blares from his phone, and Bernadetta jolts. Yuri says something, but it’s too soft for her to catch. Perhaps a swear. What’s the alarm for? Bernadetta can’t remember, but she’s stood upright again, guided by Yuri whose fingers relax around her and let go. The alarm stops, and now he has those cat-patterned oven mitts on again. The cake. Bernadetta nearly huffs a near-hysterical laugh. The cake, the hot chocolate, the storm. For how long had she forgotten everything but Yuri?</p><p>The heat from the oven hits them both as Yuri opens it, and he gingerly takes the cake out. “Do you have something to poke it with?” His voice sounds a little rougher. She decides to blame it on the hour. They should sleep soon. She says nothing as she hands him a fork, and watches as he carefully dips the pointed ends into the top of the cake. “Perfect.”</p><p>He takes the cake out of the mould they poured its mixture into, and she goes to restart the microwave again to reheat the milk in the mugs. She doesn’t know if she needs to, but she does feel a little floaty still, and hardly knows what else to do but watch as the mugs turn over and over while she pretends to read the container of hot chocolate powder. Maybe she imagined things. Maybe her all too wishful thinking got in the way. Yuri wouldn’t want to kiss her, no matter how much she wants to kiss him.</p><p>“I think we did a pretty good job,” Yuri praises once he slips the oven mitts off.</p><p>Bernadetta looks over. He’s right; it’s baked quite well and the shape is solid. Her mouth would water if she weren’t still trying to process other things. “Oh, it looks—it looks great.” Her heart’s not quite in it. She holds back an apology, because she knows if she’ll apologise it’s likely to just cause more issues. “How long should we leave it out to rest?”</p><p>He takes the hot chocolate powder from her, squinting at the small script telling him how many scoops to put in when the microwave beeps. It probably also beeped while they danced, too, but if either of them realised it, they didn’t say anything. “I would say maybe ten minutes to be sure. Meanwhile, we can pick out a movie to fall asleep to. You still have Netflix on your TV, right?”</p><p>Bernadetta hums affirmingly and carefully places the hot mugs on the counter. “I, um. Put one extra scoop in than recommended.” She points at the powder. It’s enough to make Yuri smile.</p><p>“We’re going to be sick later,” he tells her with a dramatic sigh, and Bernadetta feels as though the strange tension has deflated like a balloon. Her laugh is small and more breathy than anything. “You go find something for us to watch and I’ll handle the rest here, yeah?”</p><p>She nods and goes to do just that, flipping the lights on in the room next to the kitchen. She feels a little braver now that Yuri’s here, and reaches the windows in a few strides to pull the curtains over them to keep the thunderstorm out. Actually, she’s not even sure if the storm is still happening, but she’s in no hurry to find out. Instead, she plucks the remote up from the coffee table and settles onto the sofa. The wi-fi is the slightest bit slower because of the rain, and as she waits for Netflix to load up, she stands on the sofa cushions to try and turn the fairy lights at the wall on. They glow softly, outshone by the main light that Bernadetta hops down to turn off before quickly slipping past Yuri to grab her phone from the kitchen. The music gets cut short, and the ambience of the night fills the void.</p><p>Netflix is ready by the time she’s back on the sofa, and she zips through her Favourites section, already having a movie in mind. She double-checks the subtitles are on (although there’s no reason for them to be off, considering she never unselects that option, but she feels better knowing for sure), and sighs happily through her nose, grabbing a few puffy pillows cast along the whole length of the sofa and grouping them at where she and Yuri will lounge the movie away. She stretches to pinch the blanket draped over one of her armchairs between her fingers, bringing it over, too.</p><p>“<em>Treasure Planet</em>?” Yuri sounds amused as he pads into the living room.</p><p>Bernadetta defends, as she fluffs a cushion, “I don’t get as anxious watching it now that I know the bad stuff turns out okay in the end since I’ve watched it so much!” She pouts as she spreads some coasters out for Yuri to place the steaming mugs of hot chocolate on. She’s pleased to see whips of cream decorated with tiny marshmallows, too. Her lips twist, a little as he heads back out to presumably cut at the cake. “Unless… You wanna watch something else?”</p><p>From the kitchen, Yuri assures, “Nah. It’s one of my favourites. Besides, it’s cute how you gush about the characters.” Thank god he’s not in the room, because Bernadetta’s just smacked one of the pillows she was fluffing to her face to muffle her squeak. “Under one condition: you stop trying to hide your tears when Mr. Arrow dies.”</p><p>She pulls her face away from the cushion when he returns with two small plates loaded with cake, hoping it comes off as her being more flustered over his proposal than his… flirting? Is that flirting? Bernadetta can’t tell. “What tears?!” He gives her a pointed look as he stands there. She averts her eyes. “Shut up.”</p><p>Yuri laughs. “I’m just saying, my shoulder’s ready and available for loud sobbing. Cool, that should be everything. Unless you need me to fetch something from your room? Your teddy bear maybe?”</p><p>He says it so casually when otherwise people would probably laugh. Bernadetta’s twenty and still sleeps with a stuffed toy. Yuri doesn’t laugh though. He sticks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at her bedroom and looks entirely genuine.</p><p>Bernadetta decides, “No.” She pats the space beside her. “I feel… just as safe with you…” She sounds dumb and coy and she knows it. Not that Yuri seems to mind, considering how he slinks down next to her with no problem, his laughing ringing out in the room like pretty bells. Oh, and she’s writing poetry in her head about him! But it’s not like it’s the first—nor the last—time she’s done it.</p><p>“Well, I’m happy to hear it.” His arm is around her shoulders without much thought, and Bernadetta feels her blush dip to her neck this time, too. Just to do something to prevent her from exploding, she quickly covers the both of them with the blanket and offers Yuri his mug just as she picks up her own.</p><p>Yuri smiles as if he knows. It wouldn’t surprise her if he did. She doubts she’s very subtle about it. “Cheers.” His grin is that wolfish kind that she sort of loves as he extends his free hand to clink his mugs with Bernadetta’s. She echoes him in a mumble and does, drinking deeply despite how the hot chocolate is still quite hot and burns her tongue a little. She shuffles to place her mug down, and Yuri laughs. “Cream on your nose,” he explains when she gives him a puzzled look, wiping it off the tip of her nose with a finger before sucking on it. Bernadetta swallows a noise and searches frantically for the remote to play the movie.</p><p>As the hour continues to pass and their mugs empty along with their plates of cake, Bernadetta feels warm and full. They’ve shifted around a little since the movie’s start, with the both of them laying across the sofa now rather than just sitting. Yuri’s head is resting on a small pile of pillows, one hand dangling from the sofa’s edge, and the other looping an arm around Bernadetta’s waist as he holds her close. She doesn’t think she’s stopped smiling, because her cheeks vaguely ache. She can hear Yuri’s steady heartbeat from how she’s laid her head at his chest, ear pressed above where his heart sits. She’s only half paying attention to the movie at this point, partially out of mild anxiety as she knows Mr. Arrow’s death scene is coming up, but mostly because she’s trying to gather the courage to hold Yuri’s hand.</p><p>She figures trying to go for the limp one over the sofa’s edge might be a little awkward, so if she does find the guts to attempt being suave, it’s better to go for the hand resting at her stomach. She’s <em> almost </em> done it for the past ten minutes, fingers twitching the slightest bit before backing out again. When she had sighed in quiet frustration, Yuri had checked in on her in a mumble, and she just shook her head, feeling as he had pulled her closer. He <em> must </em>know what he’s doing to her, surely?</p><p>Bernadetta pulls a face, eyes flitting back over to the TV. Ah, it’s here. She hates this scene, and it doesn’t help how much Scroop creeps her out. Her shoulders tense a little, and she looks away and buries her head in Yuri’s chest when it happens, grabbing his hand in the process. She hopes it was smooth enough, and it’s not like she’s faking how upset she is. Yuri hums, and does two things that should kill Bernadetta instantly but somehow don’t—one: he squeezes her hand and laces their fingers together, and two: he kisses the top of her head.</p><p>She almost squeals.</p><p>“It’s over,” he tells her quietly, and she exhales through her mouth, relieved. She doesn’t look back at the TV though, and instead stares at their joined hands. Nope, feels and looks pretty real to her. He must catch her looking, because he wriggles his fingers there purposefully, and Bernadetta hides her face in his chest again, relishing in how his low laughter sounds.</p><p>“Meanie,” she mutters.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” he returns.</p><p>Her cheeks <em> definitely </em>hurt now.</p><p>Until she gets too flustered to keep holding hands, overthinking entirely what she should do, <em> especially </em>when Yuri starts tracing circles onto the knuckle of her thumb. Are her hands too sweaty? What if he thinks they’re too sweaty? And now thinks she’s super gross? Oh god, she feels like she’s evaporating. She just might be. What to do, what to do, um…</p><p>“I need to pee!” she announces suddenly and winces almost immediately.</p><p>Yuri somehow seems unfazed. “Alright.” He lets go of her hand and waits for her to wriggle out of the blanket, very nearly tripping over and landing face first onto the carpet in her haste. “You want me to pause?” Yuri tilts his head back to look at her as she walks around and to the door.</p><p>She laughs a little nervously, discreetly wiping her palms on her pajama pants. “You don’t have to! I’ve seen this movie, like, a hundred times! Well, maybe not a hundred, but somewhere close to that. I think.”</p><p>“Okay,” Yuri says, and reaches to pause the movie anyway.</p><p>Bernadetta nods at nothing and then scrambles for the bathroom. When she shuts the door behind her, she leans against it for support and heaves a massive sigh. Bernadetta does <em> not </em> need to pee, she just needs to reevaluate about twenty different things. That’s fine. She peels herself off the door and goes to run cold water into the sink. In a swift movement, she splashes water onto her face, watching her reflection in the mirror as droplets roll down her face and drip down her chin. Her face is still a little blotchy and red from being laid under the warm blankets for so long. That, and also because <em> Yuri </em> was <em> holding her hand. </em></p><p>Why was Yuri holding her hand? Oh, because she wormed hers into his. Right. Yes. But then he <em> kept </em> holding it, even once the death scene had passed. What does that mean? And the kiss on the head? Was that real or did Bernadetta make that up entirely, just as she had done with the image of Yuri leaning in to kiss her once he’d dipped her? No… Bernadetta’s never imagined things like that before, just simply overthought too hard on occasion and almost convinced herself of the bad things she worried would happen having actually happened, which they didn’t. But this wasn’t bad, and Bernadetta is only really good at making up <em> bad </em>scenes in her head out of sheer anxiety. So, why would she think of Yuri kissing her? When that’s something she considers good?</p><p>What if <em> Bernadetta </em> kissed <em> him? </em></p><p>She laughs out loud at that, short and shocked, before slapping both hands over her mouth. Hopefully Yuri didn’t hear that… But… Well, <em> could </em>she kiss him?</p><p>Assuming everything that he’s done while visiting was intended romantically, it wouldn’t exactly be absurd for Bernadetta to make the first move and kiss him on the lips. Right? But… If he meant all of those things platonically…</p><p>“He’s going to hate me,” Bernadetta concludes quietly to herself.</p><p>She shakes her head, takes a breath. <em> No. </em>Okay, what would her therapist say in a situation like this?</p><p>“Stop jumping to extremes,” she mumbles, hands gripping either side of the sink, “and instead consider a medium possible outcome… Medium possible outcome…” Well, if the worst case scenario would be Yuri hating her guts entirely and never wanting to see her again, and the best (however, <em> very </em>unlikely) case scenario would be Yuri feeling the same and possibly  even wanting to date her… then the medium case scenario must be Yuri maybe not returning her feelings, but also not hating her nor wanting to end their friendship. “And worst case scenarios rarely ever occur,” Bernadetta recites the phrase from therapy.</p><p>She breathes out, long and deep.</p><p>Okay.</p><p>
  <em> Okay. </em>
</p><p>She can do this. Right? And that way she’ll also get some answers! Right!</p><p>She turns the tap off and dries her face with a towel. Her hands are still a bit sweaty, so she wipes them again against her pants, and then makes her way back to the living room. Yuri is still sprawled out on the sofa in the same position he’d been in when she left, scrolling idly through his phone. He looks up when he sees her come in.</p><p>“This next part always confuses me. Ben is also really annoying. You’d think if there’s a <em> robot </em>involved in this, he’d be a little cooler, right?” He locks his phone and chucks it aside, moving slightly to presumably give Bernadetta room to settle back into the position from before. Instead, she just stands, looking at him owlishly. Yuri raises a brow. “You okay?”</p><p>“Yes!” Bernadetta all but squeaks, hurrying to sit in the space he’s made for her, hands stiff and on her knees as she stares ahead.</p><p>Unconvinced, and for good reason, Yuri presses further. “Are you sure? You’ve been acting a little off for the past, like, hour. If you wanna stop, we can and—” Yuri stops speaking.</p><p>Because Bernadetta is kissing him.</p><p>It’s swift and messy and hardly a kiss, really, and Bernadetta pulls away, hands hovering by her sides and she pants a little. Oh, god. Oh, she’s done it, and now Yuri’s going to be mad, and—</p><p>“I’m sorry!” she bursts out, suddenly panicking. “I’m so, so, so sorry, that was—I shouldn’t have—I’m so, <em> so </em>sorry, I—”</p><p>Yuri gently cups her cheek with a hand, and she stops, digging her nails into her thighs as she feels compelled to hold his gaze. Is he mad? She can’t tell. Oh, he’s about to shout and tell her he hates her and leave and tell <em> everyone </em> about how Bernie’s <em> such </em>an idiot for thinking—</p><p>“I’m not mad,” Yuri promises her softly. “And you’re not an idiot.”</p><p>Oh, she’s said that all out loud again. God, she’s such a mess.</p><p>He readjusts his position, one  leg angled on the sofa, the other rooted to the carpet. His hand is still at her cheek when he pushes her fringe back. His eyes slip shut and he—</p><p>“You’re intelligent,” he kisses her forehead, “kind,” he kisses her nose, “funny,” her left cheek is kissed next, “empathetic,” he takes his hand away to kiss the right one, “and the prettiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”</p><p>His lips are soft, just as his tone had been, against her chapped ones, kissing her slowly and carefully. It’s a small kiss, short but still longer than the impulsive one Bernadetta had initiated, and she belatedly closes her eyes when she feels his lashes lightly graze her cheekbone. Against him, she relaxes; her shoulders lose whatever tightness has resided there, and the fingers digging into her thighs slowly spread and stop hurting the flesh there. He’s so gentle, and sweet, and perfect, and when he pulls back, Bernadetta’s breathless in a way she’s never been before.</p><p>He’s only pulled back far enough to keep their noses almost touching. His eyes shine with the little fairy lights above them, and with something else Bernadetta can’t understand once she flutters her own open hesitantly.</p><p>Stupidly, she says, “<em> Wow. </em>”</p><p>Yuri chuckles. His hair has come entirely out of the ponytail she’d put up for him earlier.</p><p>Bernadetta raises a hand to brush her fingers across her lips. They <em> tingle. </em>“You…” she attempts, but her voice is a little hoarse. She clears her throat. “You kissed me…”</p><p>“I did.” That smile is back.</p><p>“You… You don’t hate me…?”</p><p>There’s a sigh, but it’s not mad or upset in any way. Bernadetta can tell <em> that </em>at least. “I could never hate you. Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” His hands find hers again, intertwining their fingers. Bernadetta lets it happen, because she wants it to. He then holds her gaze when he says, with all the raw honesty in the world, “I love you, Bernadetta.”</p><p>Bernadetta, suffice to say, is speechless.</p><p>Instead, she sniffles.</p><p>One of his hands slacken in hers and rushes to her face. “Hey.” He’s tilting his head to the side, some of his fringe obscuring his eyes. The smile on his face hasn’t left, but it’s a little concerned now. “Why are you crying?”</p><p>She doesn’t really know. She shrugs. “I’m just—happy.” Her laugh is a little wet.</p><p>“Happy tears?” he asks gently, and she nods.</p><p>“Happy tears,” she confirms, letting herself lean into the touch of his hand at the side of her face with closed eyes. His thumb strokes her cheekbone absently.</p><p>“Good. Because I mean it. I love you. God knows for how long, but I do.” He leans in to kiss her forehead again, this time his lips lingering a little longer. “But you don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”</p><p>“I love you, too,” Bernadetta confesses anyway. And it’s true. And she doesn’t overthink it. She’s had years of that already. She’s certain now. She sniffs. “I love you, I love you <em> so </em>much, Yuri.”</p><p>His smile has spread into a grin. “Aren’t I lucky?”</p><p>She feels him wipe away a tear that’s escaped. “You <em> were </em>born under a lucky star,” she points out.</p><p>Yuri hums. “<em> You’re </em>my lucky star,” he whispers and chases her lips again.</p><p>Bernadetta isn’t sure how long they spend the rest of the early hours of the day kissing and laughing and talking about how long the other yearned for, but eventually the break of dawn comes quicker than their retirement to sleep, with her resting at his chest again as they lay on the sofa. Yuri holds their joined hands up, smiling into Bernadetta’s hair as she talks about how nervous she was when Seteth had paired them up for a class project together a year before, when they found each other again. She falls silent when he kisses at her knuckles slowly.</p><p>“Yuri?” She asks, the flurry in her chest swelling with each brush of his lips.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>She fiddles absently with the edge of the blanket. “Did you… <em> know </em>I had a crush on you?”</p><p>Yuri thinks for a bit, resting their hands on her stomach. “Not at first. Well. I never did know entirely for sure, but a part of me suspected. I figured the way you acted around me at first wasn’t so different to the way you do around others, but then… you sorta relaxed a little around me. Like, you were slowly showing yourself to me. But the closer we got, the more open you became, and, well,” he huffs a laugh, “I just kept falling.”</p><p>Bernadetta’s brows thread together. “So… You liked me even when I was an anxious mess? I mean, I still am, but… not as much around you…”</p><p>“Of course I did. Bernadetta—” He shifts a little and she looks up at him. His eyes look a little tired, but they’re still shining as they were before. “I love you. And that means you whenever you’re anxious, and you whenever you’re calmer, and you whenever you’re crying, upset and breaking down, and you when you’re happy and laughing. I love every part of you, even the parts you hate.”</p><p>“... Oh. But, my father says—”</p><p>“He doesn't matter,” Yuri says simply, and kisses her head again. “I don’t want you to work on yourself for him. I don’t want you to work on yourself for me. If you want to work on yourself, do it for you. Yeah?”</p><p>She nods, teary again. “Yeah...”</p><p>The smile in his voice is audible. “Good. We should probably sleep, it’s…” He checks his phone, laughing once. “Six in the morning.”</p><p>“Can we skip our eight AM?” Bernadetta pleads.</p><p>“Oh, haven’t you seen? Seteth posted about half an hour ago saying class is cancelled today. Why the hell he’s awake at this hour is <em> beyond </em>me, but then again we aren’t exactly ones to judge, huh?”</p><p>Bernadetta laughs and snuggles closer to him. “No, I guess not… That’s good, we can sleep.”</p><p>“And probably miss the rest of our classes. Not that I’m complaining.” He sighs and puts his phone aside, repositioning himself so he’s a little more comfortable. “You okay? Good. Sleep well, Bernadetta.”</p><p>Her eyes are already closed. “Goodnight, Yuri.” Then, after a short moment: “I—I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too, angel.”</p><p>Bernadetta smiles, and falls asleep like that. All that hangs outside is the song of birds, the storm having cleared entirely in the midst of their love.</p><p>She’s happy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading :D please comment and leave kudos!!<br/>title from "loving is easy" by rex orange country<br/>follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/feIIstars">twt!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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